


A Formal Affair

by ComedyOfErrors



Series: Prompts: Kath and Petra Volume 1 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComedyOfErrors/pseuds/ComedyOfErrors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kath to Petra:<br/>Sherlock has been invited to attend a black-tie affair thrown by Scotland Yard, in his favor/honor/whatever. He drags Watson along. Hijinks? Madness? Steamy makeouts? Par for the course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Formal Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Kath: Man, when Petra delivers, she really delivers. Also, Sherlock Holmes is one of her idols, so I kind of knew what I was getting into when I gave her this prompt. 
> 
> Warnings: There's some more heavy petting. And implied sex. Also, you might notice a few asterisks (*) scattered in there. These are to mark Petra's margin notes on the story, which is a thing we will occasionally do. She made three of them. One of them is two margins long. These are detailed in the notes after the story.

The Response:

“You want me to go where with you?”  
“John you do know I hate to repeat myself,” Sherlock said, lying on the sofa. John sent him a glare over his tea cup. “Fine. The Scotland Yard is holding a benefit in my honor, the proceeds from it will be going to wounded veterans.”  
“Yes, that part I got, Sherlock, that part I understand. The part I need clarification on, the part I need you to repeat, is when it is.”  
“Ah. That'd be tonight. Black tie affair,” Sherlock explained, steepling his hands in front of his mouth to cover his smirk. John rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease some of the stress that built up during the conversation. It took counting to ten and back down to one twice before he could talk. “Sherlock, I. Don't. Have. A. Bloody. Tuxedo,” came the reply through gritted teeth.   
“John, it is a benefit for wounded veterans. You've kept your weight down just fine. I'd say even toned up in areas, judging by your belt holes and how your jumpers hang just a bit more. So I'm sure you can wear your dress uniform.” Sherlock waved him off, pointedly ignoring John's reaction. There was a sigh before John finally replied.   
“Fine. What time is this thing so I can pull out the uniform and clean up?” he asked as he got up from his seat to put his cup in the sink.   
“It starts at eight. My brother is providing the car. He says it will be here at quarter to eight, so you have four hours to get ready.” The door in the kitchen opened and there were footsteps on the landing. *  
“I'm going out. Please don't blow up the flat,” John spoke over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. Sherlock smiled to himself as his plan slowly worked its way to fruition. He rose from the sofa and stretched before making his way to his bedroom. The Canali tuxedo needed to be found; his normal Armani suit wouldn't do for this formal affair.   
~  
All he was missing was his bow tie. He heard John's door open and soft footfalls to the bathroom. The door closed and the water turned on. Shortly afterwards, the water turned off and the footsteps returned to John's room.  
Sherlock sat on his bed, mind palace open as he rooted through the layout of his bedroom. He gasped softly and dove to the ground, crawling under the bed. There, by the wall, was his bow tie, a light covering of dust on it. He pulled it out before heading to the bathroom to bathe.   
~  
He stood in the middle of the living room with his back to the door. He was fiddling with the bow tie, unable to manage it. He always preferred ties, or going without. He wondered briefly if John would let him go without, and was so engrossed in messing with the bow tie that he didn't hear the crisp click of military dress shoes. John cleared his throat once he realized that Sherlock was busy with something. Sherlock spun around with the fabric of his bow tie in his hands, John's laptop open with a YouTube tutorial video playing on the table behind him.   
“Do you think this will be fine?” John asked as he held out his arms.** One hand held a uniform hat, but that was not the focus of Sherlock's gaze. The pants were tight, not so tight as to be silly, but tight enough to nicely frame John's thigh muscles and show them off. If Sherlock judged the front right, and he judged everything right, then the back would showcase the amount of running they did. He followed the thin red like up to the coat, sized perfectly, the white belt around his waist seeming only to highlight the fact. He followed the white strap up, noting the medals on display, shined to perfection. The belt loop under the epaulet, and the marks of a Captain of the British Army sat on his shoulder. *** John had gone out and cleaned up his haircut, making it a little shorter. His face was smooth, as if he'd taken a straight razor to his face.   
Sherlock was unable to speak for several moments, his mind racing back to when John had used his commanding voice, back at Baskerville. He put a hold on that thought, not willing to make a mess on his tuxedo so early in the night. The video continued on in the background, the only sound between them. John sighed as he placed his hat down on the table before grabbing the fabric from Sherlock's hands. Sherlock just watched as John's hands shaped the bow, their breaths mingling and making Sherlock very aware of how close they were. John's fingers brushed his neck, making Sherlock suck in a breath and hold it until John was done with his bow tie.   
“There. You look like a respectable person now. Don't open your mouth tonight or you'll ruin the image,” John said, fixing the Sherlock's coat. Sherlock blinked a few times before righting himself.  
“I believe that you look fine. I also believe that our ride is here. Come along, Captain Watson.” Sherlock pushed past John, heading down the stairs.   
“Ex-Captain, Sherlock!” John's voice followed him down.  
~  
They arrived without much of a problem. Press dotted the entrance of the building, their flashes blinding. There was a pause as they regarded the car. Sherlock exited and the flashing resumed immediately. He held out his hand to John to help him out. Once John stood to his full height, a soft gasp rippled through the crowd and the flashes came back with the fury of a thousand suns.   
They proceeded inside, meeting up with Greg. He gave John a once-over and sighed. While John was busy talking to Sally, Greg passed Sherlock a list of case numbers. “You'll get the files tomorrow. How did you do it?”  
“I made it his only option. Though, he does look better in this than any suit.”   
Greg raised an eyebrow. “Sherlock-” He trailed off as John returned.   
The night passed with talking on John's part and holding up the wall and avoiding any social interaction on Sherlock's part. By the time Sherlock grew tired of John being grabbed, they had already done most of the speeches. The final straw was a man who was cheating on his wife with half the men in Soho (and had twice the normal sexual harassment cases pending) grabbing John's arm, hard.   
Sherlock moved from the wall to where John was fighting the urge not to just punch the politician. He grabbed him by the arm, stilling John's rage. “John, something has come up.” He pulled him out of the ballroom and down a side hallway before stopping.   
“He was the tenth person who's grabbed me. Sherlock, thank you, I was going to hit him-” John's inevitable rant was cut off by being shoved into a wall and Sherlock's lips on his own. Sherlock took over, John slowly melting away. He ran his hands through Sherlock's hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss like his life depended on it. When they parted, Sherlock rested his forehead against John's, their breath mingling as they studied each other. John's pins dug into Sherlock's chest, and his bow tie was undone again.   
“Let's continue this at home,” John said after a moment. Sherlock collected himself before pulling him out a back way and hailing a cab. 

When Greg texted Sherlock the next morning that he was heading over with the promised cases, Sherlock texted back that he might wish to wait until noon. That was followed by a text from John simply stating, 'Make it three if you don't want to be scarred for life.'

**Author's Note:**

> *You know what I never understood? The layout of 221B in correlation to A, C, and D. Like, do they share a bathroom? Or does part of it go above the sandwich shop? No, really, the setup is weird. In season 1, you have a clear view down the stairs to the door, but from the window you can see the front street. How?
> 
> **The British service dress in WWII is where it's at.
> 
> ***Fun fact, the British Army is the only military service without Royal in it. I.E. Royal Airforce (RAF), Royal Navy (RN), Royal Marines (RM). It's because the army is answerable to Parliament and the British People, not the monarch.


End file.
